


Still I Can’t Escape The Ghost Of You

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [5]
Category: Duran Duran, Ordinary World - Duran Duran (Song)
Genre: Airports, Band Fic, Chance Meetings, Coffee Shop, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Nostalgia, Old Friends, Pining, lyrics, writers block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: A chance meeting in a lonesome airport meant so much to them both. More than a birthday, or a pretty view. Simon couldn’t hide his joy any longer.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075265
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Still I Can’t Escape The Ghost Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different to anything I have written for this fandom before. I’m proud of it, it’s soft and fluffy. Enjoy! 💖🥰

_September 1992_

_Heathrow Airport, Terminal 3_

  
Carry ons in one hand, black coffee in the other, Simon waltzed through the small café. He took a seat, with a thud, running a hand through his rumpled mousey-brown hair.

He was shattered, dark circles heavily pronounced under his beady blues. He closed them, if only for a moment, then shook his head, fighting to stay awake. Taking a sip from his plastic cup, he winced at the heat, burning his tongue.

Inwardly cursing, Simon pawed through his bag, hunting for the lyric book he knew wasn’t buried too deep inside. It held important thoughts, valuable doodles turn sacred rhymes. He could barely leave the house without some form of notepad on hand, never mind getting through a long haul flight from John in LA without it. He began skimming through the book, page after page of endless scribbles that he was yet to tie together as his next masterpiece.

With a huff, he banged his fist on the table and swept the book off of the edge. Pages riddled with near illegible handwriting littered the floor. Who knew how many pages had been hastily ripped from the seams then shoved back inside, incase they held the secret to his next success.

Simon dropped his chin into his hand atop of the table, pouting. Eyeing the abandoned lyrics, he almost missed the soft voice beside him.

Bleary gaze drifting upwards, Simon could barely make out the silhouette. Backlit by some shoddy airport lights, he was dimmed darker than what he ought to be.

“I think you should be more careful, with those.”

Simon jumped about a foot in the air. He rubbed at his eyes, squinted, shook his head and his eyes fell back into his lap.

“I know what secrets they tend to hide.”

It may have been years but he would never forget such a voice.

“Can’t let these get away. They’re bound to have potential, c’mon Charlie.”

Even if he barely heard him speak when they were together, all those years ago.

Simon screwed his eyes shut, he had to think. Surely there was no way in hell it really was—

“Charlie? Calling _Planet Earth_ to Charlie?”

Something within him snapped. He sprung into action.

“Roger!” It was shaky, riddled with disbelief.

“Yep,” two deft hands ran down his torso to illustrate that fact, “it’s really me. You can stop gaping!”

Simon chuckled, matching the tones of Roger’s own little bellow. Simon couldn’t deny it, how the sound was tearing through him. It was oh so familiar yet so distant. He prayed that the memory would never fade.

“You just got here from LAX, right?” Roger asked, pulling Simon up for a special reunion hug.

Simon nodded, shattered eyes adjusting to the lean silhouette before him. Roger was gleaming, somehow, he really did look good. His eyes were sparkling, lips quirking upwards, Simon couldn’t hide his joy any longer.

Simon wrapped his arms around Roger again, determined to study his warmth. He wanted to embrace it, memorise it, cherish the precious moment. It has surely been far too long since they were this close.

“How’s John?”

With a soft smile, Simon filled Roger in. Little aspects of his life, Yasmin, John the jet-setter and Nick who’s own marriage was in a bit of a tizzy. Roger seemed content with simply listening to Simon drown on, nodding and chuckling his way through the oddly rhythmical diatribe.

Perhaps they were both thankful for the easy mood, the swing and sway. Simon could ramble on for what felt like hours but really was only a minute of their time, it was so precious that Simon truly had to cling to it. Cling to Roger, somehow.

“I didn’t even ask, what’re you doing here, in arrivals?”

He almost added a ‘Froggy.’ Simon didn’t dare to overstep that boundary.

Roger, now sat across from him with a cappuccino in hand, glanced upwards. Another smile tugged at his plush lips, Simon matched it with his own.

“I’m just waiting for my family, Gio’s flight was delayed in Italy.”

Simon hummed his understanding.

“A horrible storm.”

They continued their conversation, delving deeper into their personal lives. Roger did seem to dodge certain questions, Simon noted, although it went without saying: he still, as though it was 1986 all over again, was content with his decision. His life on the farm. Living, breathing the fresh Gloucester air.

It wasn’t a million miles away from Nechelles, or Simon himself in Putney but still, Simon found Roger drifting further away.

At some point there was a lull in conversation. A speaker, information ringing throughout the terminal. Giovanna, their son and her parents had finally arrived, over two hours late, and Roger needed to get a wriggle on. The sudden excitement in his soft brown eyes, the glow radiating from him, vocalised to Simon the love he had for his wife. How strong, how deep it must flow. He smiled, wholeheartedly, watching as Roger upped from his seat.

“It really, Rog, it really was great seeing you again. Honestly, I, yeah.” Simon stammered, very our of character, wondering whether to test the waters by saying much more. “Look after yourself, say hi to Gio from me.”

The softness in Roger’s eyes told Simon to not say anymore.

Simon felt his cheeks heat as Roger took a final glance his way, to his lyric book still lying limp atop of the table. Together they had sifted through, the familiar embarrassment of being under scrutiny for the first time had come rushing back up to Simon. Like it was 1983, the infamous Montserrat stint that had been the first of many creative divides between them all. In ways he couldn’t understand.

Wordlessly, he was pulled into a final hug. Roger’s grip was tight around him, he kept Simon close.

Within moments, it all had happened so fast, Roger had slipped from him and began to disappear into the hustle and bustle. Simon watched his silhouette fade into black, lost amongst the chaotic sea that was Terminal 3.

Finding a sudden strength he called, “would love to have you playing with us again.” Simon chanced it, cheeks aflame and calls feeling pointless. “Someday soon.”

At first Simon thought he hadn’t been heard, his heart strings tugged as the embarrassment washed over him again.

“That _day_ will be _perfect_.”

“Huh?”

Roger, cryptic as ever, was gone.

Slumping back down into his seat, mind focused on ordering another coffee before he hit the road, Simon flickered through his lyric book once again. Certain pages were speaking to him, others he glossed over completely. The songs in which Roger had touched; had given his own opinion on were ringing throughout his head. Simon quickly decided on the mental rolodex of potential ramblings he needed to revisit.

Then, grinding to a halt; a huge smile crept its way across the singers face. He wondered, how could he have missed it.

He ran a slick finger down a worn out, crumpled page right at the heart of his book. The amount of times he had scribbled and erased, scribbled and erased, seemed endless for this particular track. Simon had lost his way with it, deeming it unworthy of any form of recording or release.

There was far too much riding on it. Too many emotions that pulled ruthlessly at his heart strings, leaving him with tears in his eyes and stuttering if he tried to ground out his words. His vocal was pitiful, near non existent. The lyrics were in dire need of a new lease on life.

_Ordinary World_ _will make it big, I just know it will. This is the Duran I miss._

_Do it for me. ~ Froggy_

Apparently, Roger didn’t think so.


End file.
